


The Chariot

by rocknlobster



Series: Major Arcana of Interest [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Gen, Tarot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6295288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocknlobster/pseuds/rocknlobster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>{being forceful, using willpower, self-assertion, achieving hard control}<br/>Sameen remembers a childhood ritual with her mother, set in mid-season 4 with pre-series flashback.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chariot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serenissima (killalla)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killalla/gifts).



Root had brought her tea, to ease the frustration of what basically amounted to imprisonment in their abandoned subway tunnel headquarters. Sameen thought again about when Root had been a prisoner in the library, much more patiently if no more willingly. 

Sameen took a sip of tea, and found her mind wandering back into the past. Every year, during the weekend before Purim (always close to Nowruz), her mother would make tea with her and observe a ritual of memory. "We must always remember Sameen," she would say. "Remember what, _maman_?" she would dutifully ask. "Everything that's worthy of remembrance!" came the expected reply, with that hint of a smile. 

A few pinches of tea into the pot, a handful of rose petals, the ritual never varied. "Pour it back, pour it back!" her mother would laugh at her as she pretended to try a sip of the first pour, intended to warm the cup and always returned to the pot.1 They made tea together every day, but this was special, and Sameen always tried to make her mother laugh. Her mother's laughter was rare, but beautiful, and Sameen had decided this annual ritual should always be accompanied by her mother's laughter. 

There was no laughter as her mother shared her memories of mass demonstrations, which sometimes turned into riots. But they both laughed at all the day-to-day little things that saved up over the course of the year, of a lifetime, and poured out during this time of laughter and remembrance. "Remember, Sameen," her mother would say, "Don't forget what people are capable of. The same people who smile and wave one day can frown the next. In this world, all people are capable of all things, and it is what they choose which decides their fate."

Sameen knew this all too well. Her mother understood her, but other people had always tried to tell her what was right and proper behavior in their eyes, and how she was doing it wrong. She lost count over the years of how many times people gave her That Look for being different, for failing to hide her difference well enough. This did not really change as she grew older, not in Iran and not in America. 

It was her mother's strength, and connections, which got them out of Iran when she felt their lives were endangered. Her mother had taught her to never look away from someone's eyes in a contest of will, even if that someone was her own reflection in the mirror. "There will be times in your life when you need to use force to accomplish your will," she would say to Sameen, as she ground walnuts finely for Naan Gerdooee.2 "Use your eyes, see the world around you clearly. Make decisions when you are certain, and then support your certainty with action. In making your choices, be the master of your fate, always." 

Sameen, back in the present, was not sure what her mother would think of her current path. As Indigo Five Alpha, when she worked for Research, she had believed herself part of a rightful cause, but that cause was twisted away from her control. No, she had not really had control in the first place; she was a tool controlled by someone else. 

She had trouble understanding how Root could stand it, living day to day unsure of what identity she would wear, what strange commands the Machine would have for her. Perhaps it wasn’t all that different from her own life, though, just more of a caricature. 

However powerful on its own, brute force was most useful when applied with a clear knowledge of reality; Sameen saw that now more than ever. People like that Mahoney girl who were fed a limited view of reality by Samaritan still _chose_ to believe the lies, at a certain point. 

Sameen would not make that mistake again. If it became necessary, she would take the wheel herself. She would remember; she would not forget.

  
  
[ _learn more about The Chariot_ ](http://learntarot.com/maj07.htm)  


1 [How to Brew Persian Tea](http://www.mypersiankitchen.com/how-to-brew-persian-tea/)  
2 [Naan Gerdooee (Walnut Cookie) recipe](http://www.mypersiankitchen.com/naan-gerdooee-persian-walnut-cookie/)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Purim, and thanks for the requests! I hope I didn't stretch canon too much, or anyone's characterizations. 
> 
> I do not have personal experience with Persian Jewish life, so I tried to keep things fairly general, but hopefully still adding something real to my invented ritual of memory.


End file.
